


Felix Felicis

by UnusuallyZealousBurgette



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Felix Felicis, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Quidditch match, Tryouts, cheering, potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:09:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnusuallyZealousBurgette/pseuds/UnusuallyZealousBurgette
Summary: Harry and Ron have been dancing around each other for five whole years. Maybe all they need to get together is a bit of liquid luck.





	Felix Felicis

Ron grits his teeth through a grim smile as Luna wanders over from Ravenclaw table, her bright, glowing eye staring intently towards Gryffindor. They follow Harry’s hand slipping into the pocket of his robes, clenched into a fist. 

“Ron you're looking rather pale. Is that why you put something in his cup, Harry?” she says. “Is it a tonic?”

“Put in his cup?” Hermione ponders aloud, head shooting up from her breakfast plate to Harry beside her. Her eyes widen and she reaches over his body and attempts to snatch the bottle, but Harry’s too quick. He swipes his hand away and scoots down the bench, though not before everyone sees sunlight bouncing off the peculiarly shaped teardrop vial.

It's reminiscent of a potions class infamous to all of them. Hermione, who felt inadequate for the first time in a long time in that potions classroom, has bile rising up in her throat at the memory; and Ron, who caught whiffs of his mum’s mincemeat pie and a familiar must wafting out of a cauldron of Amortentia, can only feel his heart physically stutter.

Hermione gasps as Harry seats his hand into his pocket, saying nonchalantly, “I don't know what any of you mean.”

“Harry you didn't,” Hermione hisses. Luna sits down on the opposite side of the table, next to Ron, the bells on her hat jingling a pleasant tune. It's a lion, her hat is; a large, felt lion in honor of the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts that Ron has been sweating in anticipation of since they were announced. 

Of course Harry would notice. And of course he wouldn't be able to help himself.

“I'm still not sure what any of you are talking about,” Harry insists, “But you might want to drink up, Ron. Luna’s right, you look rather pale.” Harry winks surreptitiously to Ron, and the redhead’s sallow skin flushes pink. His stomach flutters nervously.

“Ron don't do it, it's not right!” Hermione reaches for Ron’s cup, but he slips it back. Ron licks his lips. 

“Come ‘Mione. Harry said he didn't do it, what harm could it be?”

“What harm? It would be _cheating_!” But as Ginny passes by at that moment, with her Captain’s uniform already on for the tryouts she'd be holding and a hand clasped to Ron’s shoulder, the words bounce off Ron like rubber.

“Good luck today, big bro. Let's hope you turn out to be as good as you injured friend here.” She snorts and walks down the table; Ron’s nostrils flare as Harry raises a his broken, slung arm to wave her goodbye. 

His hand shaking ever so slightly, Ron clutches the tainted goblet and downs it all without reservation, wiping the excess juice with the back of his hand and burping loudly. He puts his hands out in front of him, examining them closely as they blur into milky white blobs then reform into slender fingers and rough palms again. He blinks rapidly.

Hermione huffs and pushes out from the table, fuming at the ears. “I hope you're happy.” 

Harry shrugs his shoulders as he lifts himself up on his right arm and leans over the table. 

“I better go cool her down before tryouts, you know how she gets. But I'll see you out there.” He leans just a bit closer and whispers into the shell of Ron’s ear. “Good luck out there, mate.” 

Harry jumps over the bench and walks down the hall, a wink and a wave thrown over his shoulder.

Ron feels a heat rise up in his stomach, bubbly and delightful that clouds out the worries in his head. He laces his fingers together and stretches his arms out in front of him.

“So Luna, got anymore funny hats for me?”

*

Ron’s figure hovers steadily in front of the West hoop while the Chasers compete for the Quaffle center field, the unpredictable school broom docile beneath his fingers. Fresh air fills his lungs along with the scent of his own exhaustion, similar but different to Harry’s when he used to fly around the Burrow or hug Ron tightly after Quidditch matches. Sunlight burns his retinas as he tries to make out Harry’s shape from the Quidditch stands.

McLaggen, the competing Keeper, is on the opposite goal, looping and spinning around lazily on a Starbolt, the bloody show off. At this point they’re neck and neck for score, but Harry is sure that Ron showed much more control and skill than that ponce does. Therefore, he's sure to win. 

He wraps his hands around his mouth, nearly knocking Luna and Hermione over with his elbows as he shouts out, “Come on, Ron!”

A hand touches his bicep gently; it's Luna as she cheers alongside him. Ron flips the felt mane out of his face and takes a quick peek at them, smirking widely.

One of the Chasers holds the Quaffle under her arm and speeds towards Ron’s goal. She is surprisingly quick as she throws the ball into the air and hits it with the tail and of her broom, but Ron flips upside down and kicks it out of the way.

“Whoo!” Harry screams, a smile pulling his lips tight. He pumps his able arm into the air. Hermione peeks up from her book with a knowing grin; out of everyone cheering, he is the loudest.

“Watch the Quaffle instead of him,” Hermione whispers.

“What?” Harry says.

“Watch the Quaffle!”

A Chaser for the other side catches the ball in one hand above her head and throws it to another boy. He heads towards McLaggen’s goal, but he’s sloppy. Harry can already see that his throw is headed right for McLaggen instead of any area around him, and not at top speed.

Harry doesn't have to think before the hand on his wand moves on instinct and he covers his mouth, whispering, “Confundus.”

McLaggen’s broom flies out of the area of the hoop entirely, and he nearly falls off of it. The Quaffle goes through the goal and a loud chime marks the end of the game as everyone either screamed with outrage or glee. Harry bites his lip and hopes for the best as Ginny summons the team down to give her final thoughts.

“Harry!” Hermione squeals at, not the first, but the second time she's caught him cheating for Ron today. She shoves Harry in the arm, but he doesn't care, his eyes are focused center field on Ron’s lanky figure in that ridiculous Lion hat. Ginny shakes her head as she approaches him to whisper in his ear, but her face is alit with pride. Ron hunches over to hear her, and then jumps back as if in disbelief. 

It was never Harry’s practice as team captain to announce the team the day of tryouts, but Ginny is different. She’s sure of herself and, make no mistake, she wouldn't doubt herself.

Ron turns to his friends’ end of the stands and waves his arms above his head.

“Did he make it?” Luna asks, but Harry can’t tell. All he hear is the vague grumbling around him.

“I don't know.”

Ron continues leaping and shouting mutely. “Your wand, Ron!” Hermione cries. “Your wand!”

Ron stops jumping for a moment and reaches into his back pocket for his wand. He holds it to his throat as he projects towards the Gryffindor stands: “I did it! I made Keeper!”

Harry’s mouth falls open as a fire roars inside of him. He leaps into the air screaming, “Yes! Yes!”

They and the crowd descend the stands to crowd their new Quidditch team. The Gryffindors try to overwhelm Ron with pats on the back and congratulations, but he pushes himself through the crowd directly to Harry. In a fit of happiness he grabs him around waist and hugs him close, and before Harry can even get out a word Ron presses their lips together.

His lips kiss as tirelessly and passionately as the fingers that dig into his fiery hair and their bodies melt together.

Harry stumbles back dumbfounded as Ron smiles sheepishly and let's his hand fall down his arm. Gryffindor erupts in screams again, crowding Ron in, and Hermione takes Harry’s arm and pulls him to the edge. 

“God's Harry, I know you really like him, but the potion. Why’d you waste it on tryouts?”

Harry, dazed with hand pressed to his lips, breaths the words out. “I didn't.” He lifts the bottle of Felix Felicis from his pocket and returns to promptly. “I just thought he needed someone to believe in him.” A blissful smile overtakes his face.

“And who better than you?”

“I hope so.”

Hermione shakes her head and gestures towards Ron, standing at the center of attention with eyes only for Harry. “Well, go on. Don't leave him all distraught.”

Harry smiles. He shoves through the array of people and leaps into Ron’s arms, his good arm hanging off his neck. Ron holds the shorter boy up and smiles into a kiss five years in the making, all they'd needed was a little liquid luck.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading my fic, and if you did please leave a kudos and a comment, I'd really appreciate it!
> 
> On Tumblr @UnusuallyZealousBurgette.


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